Lucky Strike
by Gomboc123
Summary: Warm as the cigarette she's stolen from him, a laugh bubbles up from her gut and spills out. Roy Mustang, who seems to know everyone and everything, who's too good to attend class and too bad to take her out for dessert after their date, is caught off guard and left stuttering. "What, never seen a lady smoke before?" Royai 1950s AU.


This was supposed to be colonelhotstuff(tumblr) 's birthday gift, but your birthday was an entire 2 months ago, I'm so sorry :') Ily. Anyway, that 50′s bad boy/good girl au you've been posting about on Insta is absolute fire, and I had to write this for you

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"So, what now?" Riza fingers the sleeves of her sweater as Roy turns his key in the ignition of the car, shutting the engine off, leaving the air to fill with nothing but the sounds of Riza's voice and the cicadas outside, crawling out of their winter hibernation to sing.

"Well, most of the time when I drive a date home, they get out and walk back to their house," Roy's left hand remains on the wheel, but his black-booted feet find their way to the mat on the bottom of his car. Why he even bothered with mats, Riza doesn't know. His car is pristine both inside and out, not even a stray receipt crumpled in the cup holders, or extra clothes thrown haphazardly across the back seat, "That's what I've observed from my experience, at least."

"Do this often, then?" Riza's hand moves to circle a lock of her blonde hair, body angled toward Roy and elbow resting on his dash. Considering the obsessively clean state of the vehicle, Riza doesn't know how much of it she's allowed to touch. Unfortunately for Roy, she isn't inclined to ask.

"No, not really," His left hand slides from the wheel, down to his lap, "Most of them just part ways with me once we're done with whatever we planned for the night, without a ride."

"And what possessed you to drive me back home?"

He glances out the windshield, "You live pretty far out from town. It'd be improper to leave a lady to walk home by herself all the way out here."

"Buses still run this late, you know," Roy sweeps his eyes over her. Over her elbow on his dashboard, the hand in her lap, her legs, crossed at the ankles and her skirt, riding up from its position originally right at her knees.

"I know."

"Okay."

"So are you going to go home or do I have to kick you out of my car?" Roy crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at her. She returns the gesture.

"You're not going to kick me out," She tilts her head to the side, challenging him, and he accepts.

"Well I don't know if you noticed, but I haven't lit up all evening," Roy's hand enters a pocket of his black, leather jacket and pulls out a battered pack of Lucky Strikes and a silver lighter. He waves them in the air in front of Riza before taking a cigarette out of the pack and putting it between his teeth, "I'm going to now, whether you leave or stay."

The pack returns to his pocket, and with his other hand, Roy flicks the lighter open and holds it to the tip of his cig until a small tendril of smoke floats up and hits the roof of the car, dissipating on impact. Once the lighter is out of sight once more, he takes a deep drag and blows it to the ceiling. This time, a slight haze lingers in the car between them, closed windows heating the car and trapping everything inside.

"I guess you caught my bluff," Roy talks once more, white smoke leaking from his mouth like a fog, "I don't have it in me to kick you out right now," He decides to mirror her position, resting a lazy elbow on the steering wheel, "But I'm not going to stop smoking just because you're in here with me," He tilts his own head, giving her a fake-pitiful expression, complete with wide black eyes and a pout.

But Riza isn't afraid of a little smoke.

With deft fingers, she plucks the cigarette dangling from his lips, and brings it to her own as he flounders. She inhales deeply, savoring the burn of the tobacco as it goes down her throat and into her lungs. Roy's cigarettes are so different from the ones her father smokes around the house, all harsh and biting and full of additives. The Lucky Strike is rich and full, but smooth and fragrant, and Riza smiles before opening her mouth once more and blowing the smoke back out into the car, adding to the smog accumulating inside. Her smirk grows wider when she tries to hand the cig back to Roy, only to find his rough hands frozen in shock.

Warm as the smoke she's stolen from him, a laugh bubbles up from her gut and spills out. Roy Mustang, who seems to know everyone and everything, who's too good to attend class and too bad to take her out for dessert after their date, is caught off guard and left stuttering. Even when she'd caught him off guard before, he'd quickly corrected that cocky, rugged mask he wore and brushed the occurrences off as best he could. Unluckily for him, Riza's sharp eyes matched her last name, and they caught it all, but she let him have his fun pretending. This time though, the shock is evident all over his face, through his inky eyes and his crooked nose with the scar running over it, through his slack jaw and the mouth trying to find the right words to recover him from embarrassment.

Riza just takes another drag.

"What, never seen a lady smoke before?" Riza's the first one to talk between the two of them, and with her words, Roy's hands reach out to recover his stolen cigarette. He takes a defensive draw in lieu of replying with words, and Riza laughs once more.

With his exhale, the familiar buzz of nicotine sets in and warms Riza's core, "I've certainly seen ladies smoke before," Roy can feel the loosening affects too, and with another breath, he recollects himself, "I just didn't expect you to be one of them."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Riza says, looking away, but unable to fault him for it. After all, she's the one in charge of her image. Of the pastel sweaters and good grades and innocence. Some of it's real, and she can't say her life is unbearable the way it is, being a quiet, albeit successful student. But the part of her that isn't pleased- that breathes in her father's secondhand smoke day in and day out, that's tired of how stagnant things can be, reaches for Roy's cigarette once more. And he gives it freely this time.

"Fortunately for you," Roy waits until she takes another drag before continuing, "I'm interested in learning."

"I don't know, you seem to skip class a lot," Riza passes the smoke back to him, the movement natural.

"Well Miss Hawkeye, there's a lot you don't know about me too," He smiles at her, genuine this time, free of the cocky smirk that usually plays across his lips, and Riza believes him. After all, when they'd first met, she'd written him off as nothing but an arrogant delinquent. Here she is now, sitting in his car and waiting for him to suggest a second date.

With a smile, the cigarette passes between the two of them as they sit in the wordless haze of Lucky Strike smoke. Right now they don't need words. Thicker and thicker grows the air, until the smouldering tip of the cigarette meets the yellow part of the paper, finally having eaten the tobacco whole. Roy is the one who makes the call, and opens his driver's side door to step out. He throws the cigarette butt to the ground, and with those big, black boots of his, snuffs it out.

Riza exits through her side, and moves from the road to the path leading up to her house. Smoke dissipates from Roy's Chevy into the spring air, and Riza watches the warm haze they'd been caught in drift away in the wind. She also watches Roy, who, after extinguishing the smoke, leans on his open door in anticipation.

"What are you waiting for?" He asks her, running a hand through his perpetually disheveled hair, "We both know I'm not exactly the meet-the-parents type."

"That's not it," Riza mirrors him, pushing her bangs from her eyes, "Don't I get a goodbye kiss?"

Roy stutters once more, but manages not to lose his complete composure, "How could I possibly forget?"

Riza waits for him on the walkway, hands clasped in front of her, the perfect image of a good girl on a first date. Roy saunters from his car to where she stands, smirk on his face, all leather and ripped jeans, looking every bit the mischievous devil he presents himself as. Part of Riza hopes her father isn't watching through the window, but an even larger part couldn't, quite frankly, give two shits. When Roy reaches her, cutting his way through the grass, she leans forward, pink lips pursed ever so slightly in anticipation.

But rather than meeting her there, Roy bends down and takes one of her soft hands in his rough ones, and brings it to meet his lips. Laying a delicate kiss to the back of her hand, Roy rubs a thumb over her fingers in a gentle way that Riza never would have expected from someone who spends all his time holding smokes or drinks or motorcycle handlebars. She finds herself floundering this time, wondering when the roles of scoundrel and prude had reversed.

Once his kiss is complete, Roy returns her left hand to its place beside her skirt, and looks up at Riza's reddening face, "The first new thing you should know about me is that I know how to treat a lady," He steps back from her, "And very regrettably, etiquette decided that kissing on the lips will have to wait a few dates."

Riza sucks in a breath of the cool, night air, hoping the cicadas' song in the background will hide her hammering heart, "So you want to do this again?"

"Of course," Roy finds himself at the open door of his car once more, "When I said I wanted to learn more about you, I wasn't kidding. I like you, Miss Hawkeye, and unfortunately for you, I think you like me."

"Tragically." Roy chuckles at that, and with a wink, seats himself back into his black Chevy and starts the engine. When it roars to life, Riza waves a small goodbye, then brings her still-warm left hand in her other, and finds the strength to walk up the cement path to her house. Only once she opens the front door, letting golden light flood the dark outside, does she hear the car engine turn, and watch Roy speed away, smoke trailing from the exhaust behind the car, and from the front window- no doubt another cigarette he lit up.

_Unfortunate_. Riza thinks to herself. How unfortunate that instead of locking herself back up inside, she wishes she was speeding away with him.


End file.
